Bob Dylan (After The Nobel), Where Do You Lie Stringing The Guitar Silently From Hide?

Bob Dylan (After The Nobel), Where Do You Lie Stringing The Guitar Silently From Hide?

Bob Dylan,
Where, where do you
Lie in
Stringing the guitar,
The guitar and singing,
Singing the songs
Silently,
Silently from public hide,
Bob Dylan,
Bob?

The world, world
Is searching you,
Searching you
And you,
You lost in the rhythms
Of poetry,
Poetry as songs
Set to music
And singing,
Singing them.

Bob,
Bob Dylan,
The world, world after you,
But you,
You still somewhere
Playing,
Playing the music,
The music of life,
Reposing in,
Reposing in.

To search meaning,
Meaning and love,
Love and value
Catching the nuances
Of speech,
The rhythms,
Rhythms of living,
The cadence,
Cadence of speech,
Going, going with
The time, time and age.

Bob, Bob Dylan,
Sing you,
Sing, sing you
The songs,
Taking your time,
Your time
To sing
To your full,
So, so lost in
And passionate about
Music, music of life,
Rhythm, rhythm of speech.

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Copyright © Bijay Kant Dubey

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FAR APART

FAR APART

Some things I would hold dear,
Vowing that I would never let them go,
But misfortune often pries open my fist,
Plans and dreams are shattered, they melt, and they dissolve-
Mirages.

Some friends I hold dear,
And cherish all the time we spend together,
I am filled with nostalgia
Each time that I remember
The things we did; and those we did not,
Of how we met; of how some have lasted when they stay,
How some have departed; never to meet again in this world,
Their past presence lingers on, yet still remain out of this realm-
Out of reach.

A special friend I have held dear; you.
But your existence was threatened
So you keep fading away in mysterious ways;
Under a shroud where friendship is unwelcome,
You hide away,
But we are not to blame for the way it is,
Maybe it is who we are – magnet and glass,
Maybe it is the way we should be,
And I guess we have to remain so,
Just like our worlds-
Far apart.

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Copyright © Victor Gordon

Victor Gordon Musara (Vic Tor Jacob) is on facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/vic.tor.1213986

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Cheetah

Cheetah

The cheetah
Tear-eyed and dotted
And spotted
Running into the wilds
With the burning,
Burning eyes,
The cheetah
Into the wilds
With the fiery wrath of it,
Bloody, brutal and bestial.

Cheetah,
The cheetah spotted and dotted,
Fiery and bloody
Running into the wilds
With the burning, burning eyes
An animal
Swift, tameless and proud,
A brute so bestial
And bloody.

Cheetah,
The bloody cheetah,
Brutal cheetah
With the burning, burning eyes
Pouncing into the forests
Wild and fiery,
Dense and deep
And the deer running for cover,
Fleeing and fleeing
For safety,
Hiding and hiding to save.

Oh, the rule of the wild I could not,
The rule of the jungle
And those of the jungles
Where wrath held its sway over,
Furies ran wild,
Ferocity visible
And the monsters
Having their turns
Into the forests
Of ignorance!

But with the clearance of the forests
Wild and stretchy
The number has dwindled
And it is difficult to find
The cheetahs
Running into the forests
Dense and deep,
The cheetahs spotted and dotted
And printed,
Wild, swift and proud
With the jaws and claws of its own,
Paws bloody, brutal and bestial.

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Copyright © Bijay Kant Dubey

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On World Refugee Day Saw I Refugee Girl Going Her Way All Alone

On World Refugee Day Saw I Refugee Girl Going Her Way All Alone

On World Refugee Day
All of a sudden
The mind lifted me
To the picture
Of a refugee girl
Walking down
The memory lane of mine.

A small-girl, daughter like
Saw I ravished by
Politics, war, human greed,
Lust for power,
Found I seeking shelter and food
Walking down the street
As a refugee girl
The loving daughter of someone
Turned into a refugee.

May be it tallied with the picture
Of a Punjabi
Displaced and dislocated
During the Partition tragedy,
A Bengali caught in between
East Bengal and West Bengal,
A Kashmiri pundit girl
Living in camps,
A Serbian or Croatian
Or a Syrian daughter
I wanted to hide in from bombardment.

Heavy bombardment and shelling
Took a toll upon
And she lost her parents and home
And got displaced and dislocated
As a refugee,
A refugee girl
In the camps
Seeking shelter and food,
Pity and sympathy
And nothing more.

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Copyright © Bijay Kant Dubey

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Life Story

Life Story

I broke my life story into
Several different pieces
In all sizes and shapes
Were they
And radiating
Thousand unnamed hues.
Gluing them together was
Unimaginable
As all pieces grew in size,
independent of each other
They reflected a new story.
That’s life.
Several different pieces put together.
All of them unrelated
(Sometimes mismatched)
But tightly held together
Woven into intricate patterns
So the ties never get loose.
Breaking them, is releasing them
And
The life-pieces are gone
Gone. Gone for ever.
They are never back.
All you get is another life story
With different slices
And
You start building another life
Living another existence

Copyright © Manjusha

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MUD IS GOLD

MUD IS GOLD

A prophet said
Days are knives
Friends are frauds
Relatives are thieves!
A poet said
Days are cakes
Friends are veins
Relatives are houses!

A prophet said
Gold is mud
Sky is dark
Health is waste!
A poet said
Mud is gold
Sky is bright
Health is chaste!

A prophet said
Words are lies
Wealth is hammer
Speech is blunder!
A poet said
Words are stars
Wealth is honor
Speech is grandeur!

A prophet said
Birth is curse
Desire is pain
Life is strain!
A poet said
Birth is bliss
Desire is gain
Life is heaven!

DASAN…01/07/2016

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Kannadasa Dasan is on facebook at:  https://www.facebook.com/kannadasa.dasan.5

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